For the curious, the cautious, and the catastrophically confident
Necromancy. Even the word carries a sort of chilly hush, as if uttering it might summon a skeletal footman or a very disappointed ancestor.
But let us be fair. The art of communing with the dead, manipulating remnants of spirit or body, or reanimating that which should probably remain horizontal, is not strictly forbidden. In Arandor, at least, it is not illegal—provided you possess explicit permission from the Magistrate or the Queen herself. Practicing necromancy without such sanction is, and I quote from the Edicts of Harmony, a grave offense. Yes, truly. A jest built into the law. The Elders are funnier than they look.
Now, to the heart of the matter:
On Elves and the Art They’d Prefer You Didn’t
Among Elves, necromancy is generally considered distasteful, unsavory, and the sort of thing that eventually leads to conversations involving cloaks that smell like mildew. Still, some Elves do pursue it—often for well-meaning reasons. To understand the cycle of life. To commune with ancient ancestors. Or, more concerningly, to win arguments with people who are inconveniently deceased.
We understand there may be value in the study of death—but it must be handled with restraint, reverence, and ideally, not in public.
Tilverton: Bog-Born Liberties
In the boggy freeport of Tilverton, necromancy is more common—if not exactly embraced, then at least tolerated like a slightly weird uncle who insists his mushrooms are “perfectly safe.” Practitioners there often argue that necromancy isn’t soul manipulation at all, but merely a sort of divine recycling of spiritual residue and lingering mana.
Do they have any proof of this? If they do,I am no expert, and this is a mostly inadvisable guide! But they surely will cite a great many anecdotes, diagrams drawn in chalk, and more than one half-dismantled skeleton labeled “proof.”
To their credit, no one in Tilverton seems to be bursting into clouds of ash from dabbling, so… progress?
Mercadia: No, Surely Not, Absolutely Not... Probably
In Edana, the Human capital of Mercadia, no one practices necromancy. Of course not. That would be scandalous. Appalling. Uncivilized.
Which is precisely why I suspect everyone is practicing necromancy. Just very quietly. With good drapes.
After all, if Tilverton can raise a cadaver in a bog, surely the high halls of Edana can conjure a ghost or two behind velvet curtains. And as we all know, nothing says “we’re absolutely not hiding something” like dramatic public denials.
Karagard: The Dwarven Situation
Now, I have never once seen a dwarf perform necromancy. In fact, I suspect if you even uttered the phrase “animated corpse” in one of their strongholds, you'd be handed a pickaxe and sent into the mines until you “work out that heresy.”
To a Dwarf, death is part of the forge—final, proud, and deeply sacred. Digging up Grandma to ask where she put her mithril hairpin would probably get you struck from the family stone. And possibly with a stone.
Still, if one were to attempt it, I imagine Dwarven necromancy would be… tidy. Rigorously labeled. Full of contracts. The skeletons would probably unionize.
Burz’kal Orcs: Bones and Bludgeons
I’ve yet to meet an Orc from Burz’kal who practices necromancy. This may be because they are philosophically opposed to it, or it may be because any would-be necromancer was turned into a crater at the first mention of bone puppetry.
Orcish society places immense value on strength, honor, and the natural course of life. Death is a warrior’s due—glorious, final, and deeply personal. Reanimating one’s ancestors would likely be considered the worst kind of insult. I suspect any aspiring necromancer would find themselves violently re-deceased. Twice.
Still, I do not deny the possibility that one exists. Somewhere. Deep underground. Hiding. Covered in bruises. Pretending to be a “bone shaman.”
So, Should You Try It?
No.
But if you must, for scholarly purposes (or because your aunt left you a skull with instructions), do so with care. Seek sanction. Respect boundaries. Do not raise anyone who died owing someone money.
And never forget: while death may be reversible in theory, poor fashion choices are eternal. If you’re going to reanimate something, at least dress it well.
Elion Miradove
Poet-Sage of the Harmonious Muse
Licensed Skeptic of Necromantic Practices
Keeper of the “Probably Not a Lich” Watchlist
Once Mistaken for a Zombie and Given Tea
Author of “Ghoul With It: The Cultural Complexities of Death and Daring”